Lonely Together
by Selene Elven
Summary: Beca still misses Jesse. Chloe misses Aubrey. They're both ready to give up, because they're both so lonely. People find each other at just the right time. Happy New Year. AU two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Just a little one-shot that was late. The entire family got sick and I just couldn't be bothered to write. Hope everyone had a good holiday!**

 **\- Ellie**

* * *

The train tracks are pretty far down.

She could jump. She could do it right now.

And nobody would miss her.

Because there was nobody left.

Her mom was gone - too many nights of drugs and violent boyfriends.

Her dad had a heart attack three years ago.

Cynthia Rose couldn't beat her demons or the bottle that called to her nightly.

Jesse, poor, sweet-hearted Jesse, died in a car accident, t-boned by a semi.

So what was left?

No amount of success can ever replace the people in her life that are no longer around. She doesn't have anything. All of this money, and all she came home to each night was an echoing silence. She leans over the railing, staring down. It's an easy hundred feet. The tracks look so small from up here.

It is pretty dark, this far from the city. The lights on the bridge are a dim and sickly yellow. They make everything seem colder. She grips the railing harder, straightening her arms and leaning away before pulling herself closer in, an experimental vaulting. Her breath clouds around her, warming her cold nose.

She misses Jesse.

What is she supposed to do without him? They'd always been together. He was her goofy best friend, her relaxed lover. He was her balance. He kept her from losing her mind during her internship, when she was opening her own label, when she lost her dad.

He was all that she had left; now that that was gone, she really has no reason to keep going.

They are supposed to be together still. They are supposed to be on a beach somewhere, drinking fruity drinks while she teased him endlessly about it.

They aren't supposed to be here like this, with Beca mercilessly alone for the last two years and Jesse's body six feet under, his soul in the lifestream.

She can't stand the sight of his grave, covered in emotionless words and dead leaves. Words don't capture his smile, his jokes. They don't convey how warm his heart was or how his arms around her made her feel.

What is she supposed to do with a marble rectangle in the ground?

Beca covers her face, screwing her eyes shut. But her body betrays her, letting a loud sob out. She crumples down, pressing her forehead against the horizontal bars of the railing. She considers jumping again.

She's fine every other time of the year, but the night of his death always gets to her. It's always their anniversary and _this_ night. She wonders how many years on this pain will hit her so viciously.

She hasn't wanted to date again. She can't even bear to look his parents in the eyes, never mind the eyes of others that might be interested in her.

She always sees Jesse's face in their smiles. Beca stands up.

She puts her foot on a middle rung.

With a quick vault, she's over, sitting comfortably on the rail, studying the edge of the bridge. It's about two feet of concrete, marked with graffiti. Someone named 'Lil' Biggie' was here in 2006. Beca snorts. She rifles through her jacket, pulling out an old picture.

It's her and Jesse, their third New Year's party as a couple. They look so happy. It only highlights the difference she feels now. She's celebrating this one on a crusty old bridge. Beca runs her fingertip over the crease in the middle from where it's been folded so many times. She slides off the top of the rail, settling on the concrete and leaning against the outside of the rail. It's much darker on this side.

Beca spends the next few minutes just rubbing over the photo, working her thumbs along the outlines of their bodies. Her nose is colder now, running just a bit. She sniffs again. The sound of crunching gravel turns her head.

There's another person walking along the bridge, hands in pockets and occasionally glancing out over the bridge before returning eyes to the ground. Beca presses herself against the rail, trying to hide in its shadow. She holds her breath when the person nears.

There's a thrill of fear that runs through her, concern over the possibility that she's just crossed paths with a serial killer or something, the hybrid reincarnation of Freddy, Jason, and Michael. The stranger moves passed her and continues. She exhales.

Her relief is short-lived, however. The newcomer puts their weight on the rail ten feet away and Beca feels the strain against the wood and metal from where she's in contact with it. She hears the slight creak and fantasizes very briefly about the whole thing breaking and the maybe-murderer falling to their demise.

It's a ridiculous thought to have. But isn't this whole night ridiculous? A sigh catches her attention.

It's decidedly feminine. Beca turns her whole body, listening as the stranger starts to talk.

"I don't know what the right thing to do is, Aubrey." Beca doesn't know why she's holding her breath.

"I miss you. I miss you a lot," the woman laughs, a little wistful, a little wet. Beca shifts, feeling like she's intruding on a very private moment.

"What do I do without you here?" It sounds like an echo of Beca's own earlier question.

"You were the only person who ever saw me for _me_ , rather than 'that girl whose parents died so tragically'." Beca frowns at the harsh scoff. "Ten years and it's still the only thing people think or say when they look at me. But not you." The stranger sighs.

"So what now?" Beca hugs her knees.

"I don't have anyone left." She definitely knows how that feels.

"Is it okay if I give up?" Her eyes go wide.

Beca starts violently when her phone buzzes, searching for it. It's only in her jacket pocket, so why is it like it's worked itself into the fabric? By the time she finds it, the call has ended. She presses the phone against her forehead, praying uselessly that the now-silent stranger hasn't heard it.

"Who's there?" She huffs before standing up, face twisted wryly. She waves awkwardly.

"Uh... hi. Just uh, um. Just another stranger." She sounds as uncomfortable as she feels. The woman turns at the sound of her voice. Beca's surprised by how pretty she is.

This pretty stranger looks like she could make a living off of her aesthetics. Even from this distance, her titian hair and bright blue eyes stand out. The gross yellow lighting does nothing for anyone, but this woman makes it work. Beca clears her throat.

"So... um... nice night out, huh?" She immediately cringes at her words, because _hello_ , they were both just contemplating jumping from the bridge that they're standing on. Even if this woman doesn't know that Beca was thinking about it, she herself was, so it's definitely the wrong thing to say. The stranger just laughs though, confusing Beca.

"I wouldn't say it's _nice_ , but it could be worse." Beca arcs an eyebrow.

"I honestly think it's a pretty shitty night," she admits. Beca likes the way her laughter sounds. It's a refreshing contrast to the current theme. The stranger approaches, leaning over and resting her hands on the railing next to Beca.

"So what brings you out here?" Beca grimaces.

"Would you believe me if I said that I was looking at the scenery?"

"Definitely not. This place is hideous." Yeah, okay, maybe the wood on the bridge is a little green from the moss and stuff, and it's a little slimy and rusty. And maybe the lighting is terrible and the train tracks really don't help much, but if the vibe was aiming more for 'dreary meeting ground for mafia proceedings', then it's perfect.

"I just wanted to be alone in a different place than where I usually am." Her confession wrinkles the brow of her companion, and red hair sways with the tilting of her head.

The woman sticks one hand out across the rail, "My name is Chloe." Beca takes it.

Her hand is smooth.

"Beca." Chloe smiles softly and Beca finds herself mirroring it. She rustles around, caught off guard by her own reactions.

"I was going to jump off of the bridge." Chloe's stark honesty hits home like an arrow shot by an expert archer. She nods.

"I was thinking about it, too." The redhead seems unsurprised. Nobody comes out here just to hang out. Except Lil' Biggie and his friends.

There's something about nights like this and places like this. The kind of desperation and pain that brings a person out to an empty bridge on a cold winter night, searching for something. Answers to questions they've asked thousands of times. There's something about these moments that inspires the kind of candid admission between strangers and self.

Something about these moments can really make or break a person.

"I've actually been here several times this week. When-" Chloe cuts herself off, looking quickly away. Beca looks down when she notices the glassy quality of the redhead's eyes. After a quiet minute, she resumes speaking.

"When my best friend died, I didn't know what to do. I still don't," she says, her voice a minuscule ripple in a vast lake. "What do you do when you end up all alone?" Beca shrugs, reminded of her own reasons for being out here.

"I really have no freaking clue."

Beca had only meant to tell her about Jesse, but before she knows it, she's talked about everything. She told Chloe about how hard it was losing her childhood friend, how painful it was to watch the light fade from Cynthia Rose and how powerless she felt trying to stop it. How many nightmares she's had from seeing her mom high and abused by various men. How many nights she's spent outside of her mother's house for her own safety.

She tells Chloe about her dad's heart attack, sudden and fatal, and how it had swept her feet out from under her. Finally meeting him again after eight years of radio silence. Their awkward interactions as they tried to relearn how to be father and daughter. He was always quoting random literature. Now she'd never hear it again.

She waxes poetic about Jesse, and it makes the redhead smile. Beca feels his ghost around her, pushing his terrible movie jokes from her mouth. Chloe laughs with a vibrant enthusiasm. It really doesn't change how bad the jokes are but they hold a new purpose now, bringing someone else joy. Beca crosses her arms on the rail, studying Chloe.

Her eyes are a crazy kind of blue.

In Beca's silence, Chloe tells her about her life. Losing her parents in a plane crash ten years ago and the way that everyone started looking at her. The pitying stares that followed everywhere she went until she had to move.

Chloe talks about Aubrey, who had left their little town, her life and her own family because she knew that Chloe needed someone. Beca finds herself developing a fondness for a person she's never met.

A person that she sadly never will.

Aubrey's buried in the same cemetery that Jesse is, preserved through memories and marble markers. Beca opens her mouth. The words stall for a second, taking a bit more effort to make them heard.

"I'm sorry that that happened." Chloe sighs, resting her head on her shoulder.

"What can you do, y'know? She was a great lawyer and a real pain in the butt for bad people." Beca chuckles softly. "I'm just glad that they got the guy."

"Yeah, I hope that bastard rots twice." The redhead bobs her head in agreement. Chloe stands up straight, stretching, bending her arms behind her before swinging them out in front to clasp her hands.

"It kinda feels too awkward to try and jump now." Beca barks a laugh, forced out in her surprise.

"Uh, yeah, definitely."

"I hope you aren't still thinking about it." Beca shakes her head. She doesn't feel as horrible as she did earlier. She'll make it another year. And she'll re-evaluate her emotions on the eve of the next new year.

They're on opposite sides of the railing, standing so close that Beca can see the sweeping of Chloe's eyelashes as she blinks in what feels like slow motion. And it's really weird because there's no strong source of light behind her, only darkness and the tracks below, but somehow the redhead's eyes are shining. Somehow they're catching the light.

Somehow, it feels like they're catching her.

Chloe bites her lip, seeming to ponder something before grasping Beca's hand.

"So, feel free to say no, but how about we go be lonely together somewhere? Maybe coffee?" She agrees, because it's not like she was honestly going to do anything else. Besides, Chloe is the most interesting thing that's happened in a long time.

She's the first person that hasn't made her think of Jesse in a painful way.

"Sure, dude. I know a place." Chloe laughs.

"That sounds ominous." Beca shrugs at the observation.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to kidnap you, take you to some out of the way place like an old bridge, and off you or anything," she quips, tongue-in-cheek. She hops back over the railing, landing and shifting to face Chloe. "Did you walk?" Chloe nods, and Beca's eyebrows go up.

"I live on the edge of the city anyways." It's still a long distance to come out this far, but Beca doesn't comment further.

"I've got a car, we can take advantage of technology." She turns to head back, but Chloe's noise of surprise pulls her around. "What?" But the redhead is looking up between them. Beca's eyes widen.

There, tied to the old iron beams of the bridge, hanging on by the barest thread, is a mistletoe. Barely visible in the darkness and looking worse for wear. Beca grunts. It was probably Lil' Biggie at it again, trying to set up mafiosos. She goes to make one such dumb remark to Chloe, but the redhead is watching her, eyes sparkling like diamond dust. Her breathing stalls in her chest.

She knows that look.

She's seen it enough times. She knows she's a reasonably attractive person, and even if she wasn't, her money brings a certain type of lust around. It makes her an attractive individual where perhaps she might not have been. But unlike all of the other times she's seen this particular gaze and felt this particular energy, there's one key difference.

She isn't thinking of Jesse.

She isn't feeling him pulling her back. She isn't hearing his words tearing at her heart. If she were to say that she felt him at all, it'd be that she can hear him laughing. Beca can hear Jesse laughing in that way that he used to when he thought she was being adorable, or right before he told her that he loved her. She feels him around her, like a light misting rain.

And then she feels him letting go.

Beca gasps. The weight of the last two years falling from her like rusty chains, the darkness of the misery fading away, parting like clouds in the face of an unbearable sunlight. She feels a shiver of realization rolling through her, and for the first time since his death, Beca feels okay. She moves closer to the redhead. Chloe touches her cheek softly, putting less pressure on her than the cloud of her exhale.

"Is this okay?" Chloe whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Beca's lips and her eyes. She manages the slightest nod, already leaning in. Her eyes are closed before they connect.

Where all of the weight had left before, all of the sadness finally freeing her, this kiss fills her with relief. It fills her with a kind of happiness she never thought she'd feel again. She never thought she'd _feel_ again. She pushes deeper, resting her hand on Chloe's shoulder. Beca wants to deepen the kiss, but a crack in the distance stops them. Chloe slowly pulls away and Beca watches her lick her lips, savoring the moment. She hears more cracks, and when the redhead opens her eyes, she can see little pricks of multicolored lights reflected in baby blues. Beca smiles, and Chloe matches it.

"Happy New Year, Beca."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So I thought that I'd write it from Chloe's perspective. There's so much lost when you don't know what the other person is thinking.**

* * *

How many twenty-year olds spent their days like this? She tosses a handful of dirt into the hole. Aubrey leans against her.

There are crying faces around her, and her dad's best friend is speaking. He's saying nice things about her parents as people move to fill the wide chasm that holds all that's left of them, but the words aren't quite processing. Nothing is really working the way it normally does; everything is a little too gray, a little too off-kilter. Her boyfriend stands on her other side, rubbing her back.

Why is everyone staring at her? This whole day, these last two weeks, all anyone has been doing is staring.

It makes her skin crawl.

* * *

"Brey, you don't have to." The blonde ignores her, continuing to stuff things into a suitcase.

"I want to," she grunts, moving around and pulling more clothing off of hangers.

"But what about your parents? You're still in school. What about Kyle?"

"Kyle and I aren't forever, Chlo. My parents understand," Aubrey pauses, folding a shirt twice before moving on. "The General understands." And Chloe understands, too. The Posen family was never quite as warm as her parents were. But she can't just let Aubrey do this.

"What about school, then?" Aubrey sends her a look that clearly asks Chloe the same question.

"I don't care about mine."

"My credits are transferable. As long as you aren't looking to get lost in a town smaller than _this_ , it'll be fine." The blonde zips up her suitcase. "Besides, nothing is as important as you, Chloe." Chloe's eyes water. She takes a deep breath.

One year on, and the looks were the same.

The pity was the same, the words were the same. All of the apologies, all of the shallow sadness.

Didn't they get that Chloe existed as her own person?

"You're coming with me no matter what I say, aren't you."

Aubrey just cocks an eyebrow, and Chloe feels a real smile light up her face.

"You're the best, Aubs."

* * *

"Chloe!" She cringes. Aubrey sounds _mad_. But it wasn't that bad, right? It wa- "CHLOE. BEALE. GET OUT HERE. NOW!" Okay, maybe it was not so good. She laughs nervously as she approaches.

"H-hey, Brey, welcome hom-" Aubrey snaps like thunder, face sharp like lightning.

"You just left me! WITH THAT MAN. THAT MAN CHILD." The blonde's eyes are cold.

"Was um, was he that bad?" The snort that Aubrey emits is so volatile that Chloe feels burned by it.

"He tried to rap about _my chest_. Do you know how many different terms exist for breasts, Chloe?"

Chloe didn't mean to laugh.

"Chloe!" She tries to clamp her nose closed, but quickly gives in when her continued laughter puts pressure on her eardrums.

"I'm sorry! I'm- I'm sorry! Just, _breasts_?" Aubrey huffs, passed her storm of fury and now just annoyed. "I'm guessing that Bumper was not a good fit?"

Aubrey glares.

Chloe wants to drop a joke about raps and butts, but she thinks it'll go unappreciated right this minute. Maybe later. She pouts, opening her eyes extra wide as she approaches the blonde. Aubrey's always a softie when it comes to her. "I'm sooorrrrryyyyy!"

"No more random blind dates. Don't set me up. If I'm alone forever, then fine." Chloe giggles.

"We'll find you someone. Maybe with a bit more musical ability."

Aubrey's rolling her eyes, but Chloe is determined.

* * *

"So, your friend looks happy over there." _Damn right, she does._ Chloe nods.

"Yeah. He's _so_ into her." She watches Aubrey and Luke laugh together. The bartender slides another martini over to her, which she accepts with a grateful smile.

"Nobody for you?" Chloe shrugs.

"I'm not really looking." And it's true. Chloe hasn't been interested. The last couple of relationships just didn't have the kind of spark she wanted.

Plus, she really wants someone who won't look at her like her world is ending when she tells them about her parents.

It always comes up and she's fine with that. She only wishes that it didn't have to be this huge defining aspect of her life. She's not carrying it around like a giant lead weight, so why do other people? Aubrey glances her way and Chloe gives her a playful wink.

She chats with a few people who approach, mostly just making commentary with the bartender. At the end of the night, Aubrey stretches herself across Chloes' back, and she _knows_.

"Yeah?" Aubrey sighs dreamily at the question.

"Yeah." She smiles at the faraway look.

* * *

"We find the defendant guilty." Chloe tunes out the rest.

The world is a different kind of empty than when her parents died. Luke puts his arm around her, but it makes her feel worse.

He's leading her away. There are a couple of reporters asking her questions.

She watches their mouths move, hearing the sounds like she was underwater.

"-sen was an admirable prosecutor. Do you care to make any comments?" The woman was talking to her, right? She was looking at Chloe. Her brown eyes were on Chloe, her painted lips moving. The microphone was pointed in her direction. The redhead parts her lips but no sound comes out. Luke moves in front, partially blocking her from the media.

"Miss Beale will not be answering any questions right now. We would appreciate your respect."

The rest of the day moves in a blur.

Where did she go now?

* * *

She remembers her first time on this bridge.

She and Aubrey had gotten lost when they had originally moved here. It's a bit more worn these days. Chloe jabs her thumb into a post and watches it sink a little into the wood.

Chloe had gone back two months ago to their hometown for the first time in six years, to tell Aubrey's parents. She feels sick, remembering their faces. The phantom smell of cigar smoke floats by as she stares out across the distance.

She wonders if they blame her for what happened. After all, Aubrey would never have moved out here if she wasn't following Chloe. She wonders if this new thought changed the way they looked at her. She doesn't know if it's in her imagination, or if it's an accurate perception.

Do they now have anger to add to the pity?

Chloe doesn't know and she never will.

The clouds above her head open up and heavy drops fall onto her shoulders.

She's so lonely.

* * *

Chloe puffs out a breath. It's getting colder, and it's just enough to create a barely-visible cloud.

She stares from one end of the bridge to the other. It's not a lengthy bridge, but it's maybe a hundred yards. She remembers doing sprints with Aubrey in high school. She imagines the football field now. Sees the bright green of the grass, the painted white lines.

She sees the smiling face of her best friend at sixteen, so serious and driven even in youth. She hears the airy scoff in retaliation to her challenge.

 _"I bet you can't run faster than me, Brey."_

 _"Cute, Chloe. These long legs aren't just for show." Chloe knew that the General wanted Aubrey running track for a reason._

 _With a wild yell, they take off, laughing and screaming to the other side of the field._

Chloe throws herself across the distance, chasing the ghost of her best friend as she glides farther and farther away.

"Aubrey! _Aubrey_!" The world blurs around her and her cheeks feel wet. "Wait! Don't leave me!" It's cold.

She crashes into the dirt and gravel at the other end, hands bracing and stopping just before her face hits the dust. It clumps where her tears gather. Her chest feels so tight.

With great, heaving gasps, Chloe begins to wonder why she's still here.

Her hands are scraped.

* * *

This place looks different at night.

Chloe's not a fan of the old lights. The yellow looks sickly.

She wonders when this bridge was last used for its original purpose. An owl hoots in the distance, sounding somber. She sighs.

"I can barely talk to Luke anymore, Brey. It's hard for us to look at each other. I think..," she exhales, blowing a breath out and combing her hair back, pushing her fingers over the top of her head. "I think we both remind each other of you." She laughs a little bitterly. Luke was a good friend.

She starts chucking pebbles and bits out over the railing, yelling with each launch.

Chloe doesn't hate often, but she finds space within herself to hate the man that took her best friend. Why do good people have to die? A larger rock hits the tracks below and Chloe hears the dull metallic thud. With an angry grunt, she rubs her head into the railing.

It smells mossy.

Aubrey liked plants. Chloe remembers the blonde's moss garden, growing in a beautiful clay bowl on her office desk. She thinks about the various shades of green, none coming remotely close in comparison to Aubrey's eyes, growing together over the stones and rich loam in the bowl. She would need to water it again tomorrow.

How long would it last if nobody watered it?

* * *

Chloe lies spread eagle in the middle of the bridge, staring up into the sky as it rained on her.

"What now?" She asks the grayness above. Only the sound of raindrops hitting the dirt answers.

"Where do you go when you have nowhere else to run?" She would have to move. Staying in the condo was becoming unbearable. Her misery constricts her throat, choking out a sob as she squeezes her eyes shut. "Oh god, not again."

Rubbing only seems to make it worse, however, and before she knows it, she's crying again.

She feels like she's been crying nonstop for the last four months.

Everything felt so hollow without Aubrey.

They'd been friends since the first grade. How do you deal with the loss of something that significant?

Tears and rain mix in the puddle under her head. In the distance, Chloe thinks she hears that owl again, hooting in the late day rain.

How do you get passed the loss of someone who has saved you so many times you've lost count?

How do you get passed the realization that you couldn't save the person that saved you?

* * *

She pours the scotch out over the tracks. It's so much darker with the railing blocking the light. Chloe mumbles something about pouring one out before bringing the bottle back to her lips.

She doesn't even know why she's drinking. It only makes her feel worse. The one time it had made her feel anything other than overwhelmingly angry or sad, she had seen Luke from across the room, working as he tended the bar. His concerned frown stuck with her the rest of the night and she couldn't bear to continue trying to lose herself. She lies down, tipping the bottle over and watching the liquid rush out, as eager to escape as she was.

"I... I think I'm tired, Brey." She hears a cricket.

"I mean, is there really anything else? I can't imagine being happy without you here," she sniffs. Her heart hurts again, mourning all of the memories they wouldn't get to share together. "You were supposed to be at my wedding." She feels sick at the thought, picturing a big empty space where her Maid of Honor would stand.

She hears the ghostly scolding of Aubrey Posen, telling her to get up and stop moping. Chloe laughs through the heartache.

"You always knew what was best, I guess."

She slowly gets up, downing the last dregs that got caught by the edge of the bottle before climbing back over to stumble home.

She hears Aubrey scolding her for walking around in the dark so drunk.

* * *

There's something strangely peaceful about this place at night.

It's still a bit sketchy, but Chloe's been here enough times to gain some sort of membership and yet nothing has happened. She looks out and into the darkness beyond the reach of the bridge's light, occasionally looking down to watch her feet scuff the gravel.

How many more times is she going to come here?

What was she even looking for?

Chloe turns and braces against the railing. It groans, ancient and weary. A huge sigh bursts from her chest, carrying the exhaustion of the past months on it. For all of the air that has left though, she hardly feels any lighter.

"I don't know what the right to do is, Aubrey." She understands, she knows Aubrey isn't coming back. She knows with all of her heart that Aubrey would not want her to stop living her life, but her days seem so dark now.

"I miss you. I miss you a lot." Her heart hurts. She shudders as the melancholy wraps around her for an unbearable handful of seconds. "What do I do without you here?"

She and Luke were able to talk to each other again, but it was still a bit stilted. They sometimes laughed about things that Aubrey would find funny, only to turn and remember that she was no longer there.

There was nobody like Aubrey Posen, and there never would be. She grimaces and scoffs at the memory of returning to their hometown to talk to Aubrey's parents. It didn't seem like that place would ever change - in a bad way. She sighs.

"So what now?" Chloe's just tired. She's tired of all of the sadness following her and reflected in the faces of those around her. Without any silver lining, the darkness seemed so permanent.

"I don't have anyone left." Luke was a friend, but she didn't know if it was something that could last without Aubrey. He was always hers, and Aubrey was the link between them. Her uncle always so mightily in her presence, constantly thinking of his brother, and her aunt couldn't ever stop looking at her without the kind of expression that read "you poor girl" and it drove Chloe nuts.

"Is it okay if I give up?" Maybe she really should move. Or maybe she should jump.

 _You can't be lonely if you aren't even here anymore._

Her grip tightens on the wood before she hears a buzzing.

Chloe clamps down on her teeth, biting harshly to stop the scream bubbling at the back of her throat. She does jump a mile high, though. Adrenaline starts to pump through her as she looks around wildly and finds nothing. She hears a scrabbling and a muttered curse. When it stops, Chloe takes a deep breath. Clearing her throat, she asks a question into the night.

"Who's there?" She's really hoping it's not a creep, because she would rather take her own life, instead of being put at the mercy of a swamp monster. She's legitimately shocked when a tiny brunette woman pops up from the other side of the railing, mumbling awkwardly.

Chloe spots her ear piercings, catching the light. Her eyes stop briefly at the bar before traveling down. Her jean jacket is nice. The cloth hood bounces with the agitation of its owner, and the strings dance back and forth. When the woman asks a benign yet unfitting question, Chloe laughs.

"I wouldn't say it's _nice_ , but it could be worse." She likes the way the woman's eyebrow arches. Her seemingly innate sassiness reminds her of Aubrey. Chloe walks over, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. She puts her hands on the rail and squeezes the wood.

The woman's eyes are a deep blue, steely and emotive. Chloe finds the color comforting. _Aubrey always liked navy._ "So what brings you out here?"

She doesn't miss the way the brunette's eyes narrow or the way she tenses up. She seems to be considering her words.

"Would you believe me if I said that I was looking at the scenery?" She barely suppresses her snort.

"Definitely not. This place is hideous." Even if she somewhat liked this place, with all of its soggy and drab charm, it didn't exactly make it classically beautiful. Or beautiful in any sense.

"I just wanted to be alone in a different place than where I usually am." She can relate to that. It's why her and Aub- _her_ condo, was so empty these days. She couldn't even go into Aubrey's room. It makes her sad though, that this woman also seemed to be mourning something or someone.

She puts her hand out and introduces herself.

Chloe finds Beca's hands cute. The brunette shifts from one foot to the other. She can sense the discomfort coming off of Beca, the unhappiness at some sort of exposure. She opens her mouth.

"I was going to jump off of the bridge." She hopes that this offering will put the woman at ease. Beca tilts her head forward, nodding. Chloe can tell from the sagging of Beca's shoulders that her reason for being here is the same. Her blue eyes had the same red tinge that Chloe's did.

Chloe wanted to offer more to make Beca comfortable, but she has trouble talking about Aubrey. It's still a little too painful. Her voice trickles off, catching and getting stuck. Thankfully, Beca fills the void.

Chloe learns more about this stranger on this bridge than she knows about people she's known for years. She hears about Beca's childhood friend and she feels tears pricking at her eyes again. "I just, I tried so hard to help her and she-" Beca bites her tongue, closing her eyes briefly. "She just couldn't win. I've spent so long wondering if I could have stopped it, y'know?" Chloe clears her throat, feeling it burn as she imagines what today would have been like if she had convinced Aubrey to stay home that day.

Her heart clenches painfully when Beca talks about her mother.

"There was this park that I used to go to. It was," Beca laughs wetly, "god, it was terrible. Run-down and- and, worse than this bridge." They both laugh at that. "I used to spend so many nights in the fort. Nobody ever went there. I was safe." The brunette nods, eyes lost in a memory, "It would rain, it would snow. It had splinters and it was cold. But it was always safe." Chloe mourns for Beca's lost childhood, the stolen innocence and potential.

"Anyways, I guess one night I was out at the park and it was just too much for her. One night, she was just _too_ high. One night, the dude was just _too_ messed up and _too_ fucked in the head." Beca wipes under her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, "one night of _too much_ , and she was gone. I wasn't even there." Chloe wants to console her, but she knows that Beca isn't looking for sympathy. Sometimes people only want to get the words out. "The only time my unmarried mother ever told me she loved me was when she was high. When my dad left, I lost my mom, too."

She reaches out and places her hand on Beca's. The brunette smiles softly.

"My dad wasn't all that bad, though. I was so mad for so long, years and years. I used to yell at him for no reason. We would- we would fight about the dumbest things, just because I thought I hated him. But I get it now. They weren't right for each other, and I'm glad he found Sheila. She made him so happy. I'm glad at least one of my parents was happy," Beca laughs wetly, sniffing and looking down. "God, y'know, I didn't think that there was anyone who was more awkward than I am, but I guess I had to get it from somewhere."

Chloe giggles when Beca recites some lines from books that she obviously has no love for. But she can tell from the way the brunette forms the words that she holds a great deal of affection for how she came by the information.

Beca talks about Jesse Swanson, and it makes Chloe's heart full. The tiny woman seems to glow, suffused with a warmth that reaches her. It's the first time that Beca really _lights up_. Her eyes sparkle when she tells Chloe jokes that he used to cherish. The redhead can't help but beam when Beca's breath catches in a laugh, trying and failing to explain a far-reaching joke about coconuts and aliens. "I still don't get it, Beca." The brunette shakes her head.

"It's like, the co- never mind, it's a terrible joke and explaining it would honestly make it worse." Chloe snorts at that.

There's a natural pause in the conversation. Beca seems much more relaxed now, calm where before she was antsy. She gets drawn in, pulled by the magnetism of Beca's accepting eyes and she tells Beca about the most important person in her life. She tells Beca about Aubrey Posen, who believed in Chloe unfailingly. Through every bad choice and reckless decision, through every heartache and every wild turn of events.

She wishes that she could share Aubrey with Beca in a way that she will never get to.

She can hear Aubrey's skeptical voice in her head, telling Chloe to be careful because someone with those kinds of piercings must be shady. It makes her want to laugh, because the two women shared so many similar traits, expressed in different ways.

At the end of it all, Chloe feels too calm to continue with her moping. Beca seems to share the sentiment.

Beca's eyes are so expressive. The redhead can see everything so clearly. She wants to spend a little more time looking into them. She wants to sink into a feeling other than sadness. She really doesn't want this night to end just yet, and that's what spurs her to open her mouth.

Chloe can't say that she isn't at least a little surprised that Beca agrees to get coffee, but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Did horses bring people gifts? Were the horses the gifts? She doesn't know, but she's not going to do whatever is bad and ruin it.

"Did you walk?" Maybe she's been walking nine miles one-way. She tries to explain it away, but it doesn't seem to do much for Beca's expression.

"I've got a car, we can take advantage of technology," Beca replies as she moves to lead Chloe to her vehicle. She's about to respond, but when a drop of water hits her nose, she looks up. She honestly has no idea how she even spots it, with as dark as it is.

It's perhaps the moldiest and dingiest mistletoe she's ever seen. Maybe it's actually a bat skeleton. It could even be multiple nests of spiders stuck together in the shape of a mistletoe. But it looks like one and has the trademark colors, so it seems to be one. Her heart picks up a beat as her mind fills with thoughts. She tries to keep her ogling down to an appreciative level, but it's difficult.

Beca is an attractive woman. Chloe knew from the second she saw her; it was just an objective fact. But while the information was public domain, she didn't expect it to have such a personal effect. Before she's fully wrangled her mind into submission, it flies away with speculation.

How soft are Beca's lips?

What does she sound like when she sighs?

What is it like to be close enough to smell her?

What is it like to be close enough to kiss her?

She's definitely close enough.

What is it like to be closer?

Beca gasps, and Chloe feels the need to be careful. She feels like she's been given a rare opportunity. Like she's looking at a real treasure. And standing before something this precious, a wayward wanderer at the foot of a temple of gold, Chloe treats this moment with the reverence it deserves.

"Is this okay?" She isn't sure if she actually says it, but she sees the light shift across Beca's face as her head dips and takes that for the answer it is.

Beca's eyelashes are so long.

She smells sweet.

When Beca's fingertips brush her shoulder, Chloe's heart jumps into her throat. The brunette moves forward a bit, giving the kiss more force. Everything moves inside her, driven by the wild movements of the butterflies recklessly searching for an exit. She thinks they might fly right out of her chest. Her hands are itching to attach to Beca in a more concrete way than just touching the skin of her cheeks and neck. However, she hears a noise, a snapping, crisp and short. She feels like she's trying to swim through mud. Her eyes open slowly, having to blink more than once.

She can still taste Beca on her lips.

Through the haze, through the dullness and short-circuiting of her mind, she can hear Aubrey.

She can hear Aubrey, the lawyer, listing details with a calculating logic.

She can hear Aubrey, the best friend, asking her with a smile if this feels right.

She can hear Aubrey, the schoolgirl, giggling with her like mad, screaming at her to get Beca's number.

She can hear Aubrey, in every facet, telling her that she deserves to be happy.

Maybe Aubrey wouldn't be able to stand there at her wedding, but her spirit would be with Chloe, guiding her through life like always. Her memories of her best friend would keep her alive in a way that no gravestone ever could.

She feels Aubrey's encouraging nudge, and she smiles back at Beca. The blonde's ghost floats over Beca's shoulder, winking and giggling.

They say that how you spend your time hailing in the new year is how you would be spending the rest of it. Chloe can't help but think that this is an excellent start.

Chloe wishes the woman in front of her a happy new year, and her heart stutters at the smirk she receives.

"Yeah. Definitely gonna be a good year."

* * *

 **AN: Back to writing PTD. Expect update.**


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